


Interruptions

by dazzledictator



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazzledictator/pseuds/dazzledictator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skids wanted to make Swerve shut up about Blurr, but he never dared hope his interruption would have such welcome consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> New fic. Slightly awkward OTP fluff because I like that sort of thing.

 

”…and that was that. 23 hospitalised just ‘cause one guy couldn’t keep his mouth shut for two astroseconds. Pure gold. Actually that brings to mind another story. I’ve told you about my best pal Blurr, right?”

Skids took a quick swig from his glass to drown the sudden taste of jealousy clinging to his tongue. “Yeah. You’ve… You’ve told about him. About you two.”

“Yeah, well, there was this one time I totally saved him from this one reporter. You know, curse of fame an’ all that, those guys never left him alone. All over his personal life. This bot in particular, a real stubborn case.  Heh, ‘twas my idea actually, give the guy what he wanted: the longest and exclusivest interview  _ever._  And I tell you, you’ve ever thought I can’t spew nonsense for three days straight, you’re  _wrong._ ”

“I… have never doubted that.” Skids flashed a smirk, then reached over the bar to give the minibot’s shoulder a pat when his smile threatened to give way to a frown.  “No offense.”

“Yeah right. Uh, so, where was I? Right. The interview. The guy left Blurr alone after that. And that’s how Blurr started calling me motor-mouth. Used to have a lil’ joke of ours, like a motto or something: He ran fast, but my mouth could’ve outran him any time. Heh.”

The theoretician nodded, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of suspicion Swerve’s story left him with. The minibot’s words had a strange flatness to them, a bitter undertone that was left ringing in the emptiness of the bar. It was like the bartender wasn’t telling the whole truth, or perhaps not telling any truth at all.

Or was the weird feeling just jealousy on Skids’ part? He had been staring at Swerve’s mouth as the bartender rambled on, growing less subtle about it as night grew older and the number of empty glasses on the counter between him and the minibot multiplied. Skids rolled his shoulders and downed his engex, hoping Swerve would shut up about Blurr.

“Ah, those were the times. Blurr and me and the races and… Yeah. Good times. Good ti- -”

“Swerve…” Skids leaned forward to press his finger on Swerve’s lips, one of those thoughtless gestures that seemed meaningless and innocent in his mind but turned out to be a turn-on. Swerve’s mouth brushed against his fingertip with the last startled syllable of the word. Skids’ fans kicked on with the slightest of sputters.

Then it was quiet. Skids didn’t move his finger off Swerve’s—soft, a little damp—lips, and the minibot didn’t move at all. The moment stretched on, tense and full of feverish what-ifs and frustrated mental curses at lack of courage. The moment was far too intimate, even considering how much Skids had drank, and it was bound to break at any moment.

The larger bot felt a slight tremble run through Swerve’s frame, hoping the movement wouldn’t escalate into Swerve pulling away from the contact. Skids’s own finger was twitching, still on Swerve’s lips, maybe predicting the return of his senses and him snatching away his hand. Either way, Skids knew they’d laugh about the awkward moment and “random” sexual tension as soon as the moment was over, hoping the other wouldn’t hear the tiniest tinge of disappointment to their chuckles or notice how optics would keep lingering.  Any moment now.

Skids waited. And waited.

The silence kept stretching, and either Skids was way drunker than he thought, or it had been far too long for Swerve to simply be too surprised to break the moment. The theoretician swallowed, beginning to pull his finger away when there was a low whine from the minibot’s vocaliser. The sound stopped Skids long enough to take another hasty, hesitant gulp of air.

Hell, wasn’t he known for a risk-taker?  

He offlined one optic, chewing on his lip, and slowly returned his finger onto Swerve’s mouth, running it across the minibot’s lower lip and feeling like the universe might collapse at any moment now.

It didn’t, but there was a sudden loss of balance as Swerve lurched forward to grab Skids by the sides of his helm, his nervous, too-tight grip sinking into the larger bot’s plating. Skids’ finger fell off the minibot’s lips, but Swerve’s mouth did feel a lot better crashing against the theoretician’s lips, anyway.

The kiss was sloppy, drunk on one part and inexperienced on the other, but Skids couldn’t bring himself to care about the clack of teeth or spilled oral lubricants. Snaking his tongue into the bartender’s mouth was a much more prudent course of action.

Swerve whimpered, a needy sound that had Skids kicking himself off his chair. He grabbed the minibot’s shoulders, leaning over the counter to deepen the kiss—and almost toppled over the minibot’s chair in the progress. Swerve yelped, breaking the kiss, arms shooting out to help him keep his balance. Skids cursed, pulling the bartender and his chair back fully upright. The minibot sighed in relief, fans whirring away as he leaned against the countertop.

And then it was silent again. Skids met Swerve’s optics with an uncertain stare, lips moving as he tried to find an explanation or an apology or whatever it was you did in a situation like this.

“So… I- -”

Swerve burst into laughter, loud and without warning. Skids kept his grip on the minibot’s shoulders despite the sudden feeling of dread. At least Swerve sounded… happy, the laugh progressing into warm giggles. Skids’ lips twitched, first at a loss of words, but the second twitch ended up in a grin that grew into a low chuckle of his own.

Skids let his forehead bump against Swerve’s, grin still on his face. “Sorry, I interrupted you.”

The minibot grinned, an even brighter one than Skids’, then whistled, poking the larger bot's chest. “I’m not.”

Skids was the first to tumble into the second round of contagious laughter.


End file.
